Page 20

CHAPTER 20

TAKE ME THERE BY RASCAL FLATTS

Brianne Archer:

I wipe an ungodly amount of sweat on my black dress as I stare at myself in the mirror and groan, shaking my hands out.

“You’re going to be fine, B. You’ve been on dates before,” he tells me, standing up from my bed.

“This feels different,” I admit and regret saying it out loud.

That makes it more real. I turn to Dakota and he raises his eyebrows.

“Give me real best friend advice. I need it right now or I’m going to back out of this stupid date with Parker,” I tell him.

He takes me by the shoulders and I have a pang in my chest, wishing I could be doing this with my brother. I push that thought away quickly.

“Bri, you look really pretty right now. Your outfit is cute and this is just a date. It can mean whatever you want it to mean. Stop putting pressure on it because there’s no need,” he tells me.

“Do you hate him? Do you think he’s bad or—”

“I love giving him a hard time. I like him. He’s cute and funny and he never talks which is great for you… Motormouth,” he jokes and I roll my eyes, but a smirk etches on my face. He pulls me into a hug. “It’s going to be fun and if it isn’t, you can come over and we can make fun of him all night. I would never let you go on a date with a guy that absolutely sucks,” he tells me.

I pick up my phone, check the time, and realize I need to leave to go to his place. Then, a text pops up.

Parker: I’m here. Get a move on, Sunshine.

I stare at the text with furrowed eyebrows. He’s here? How? Maybe he borrowed Xander’s car.

“He’s here,” I tell Dakota.

“Alright, let’s send you off then, B.”

He grabs my small purse for me and I take it from him. We walk down the stairs and Bellamy and Lawson are… sword fighting? I stop at the bottom of the stairs to see Bellamy on the coffee table with a foam sword in his hand. Lawson is standing on the couch, holding a pillow as a shield.

“Where the hell are your girlfriends?” I ask.

“Kamryn got mad at me so she’s in there,” Bellamy points to his bedroom.

“Because you’re annoying!” Kamryn yells from the open door.

“Sienna has lacrosse practice,” Lawson tells me.

“Where are you going?” Bellamy asks.

“Date,” I smile and Dakota puts his hand on my back.

Bellamy looks between the two of us.

“Have fun,” he smiles.

“Have more fun than I’m having!” Kamryn yells from the bedroom.

“Baby…” Bellamy turns and Lawson wacks the shit out of Bell the second his attention is turned.

“You’re such a dick, Lawson!” he yells and they start fighting again.

I take that as my cue. We walk to the elevator and go down. Once we’re on the street, I look in the lot for Xander’s car but I don’t see it. Parker emerges from a truck, a very old Chevy. I smile at the dark blue truck with white stripes down the side and Parker who has a whisper of a smile on his lips.

“Your chariot awaits,” Dakota jokes.

“When did you…” I mumble, approaching Parker.

“I thought if I had a chance, I better take it seriously… So I…” he hesitates.

“You bought a car so you could make sure you would impress her on a date?” Dakota asks Parker. I watch as he blushes slightly.

“Yep,” he shrugs.

He jumps up on the ledge of the old car and leans through the open window. I’m still stuck on the truck in front of me. He bought a car so he could take me on a date… Most guys don’t even bring flowe—

“For you…” He holds out a large bouquet of flowers, every color of the rainbow. I slightly gasp, still standing next to Dakota. He nudges me.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about. Have fun, Baby,” he whispers next to me, and kisses the side of my forehead.

“I love you,” I tell him as Dak walks around me and away.

“Like a sister,” he mumbles, smirking to himself.

“Like a brother,” I tell him and approach Parker, standing on the curb while he stands below. He’s still slightly taller than me even though he’s standing lower than me.

“Thank you,” I take the flowers and hold them. My lips press into a smile.

“You’re… Stunning,” he shakes his head, like he was looking for the right word to say.

I blush. I feel it—the heat in my cheeks. I smile more, looking down on him. He’s wearing loose-fitting jeans and a loose light-gray shirt. His arm muscles strain against the shirt, his shoulders looking broad and strong. His jeans are cuffed and he wears normal tennis shoes. He’s cute and casual, just like I asked.

“We should probably get going… I don’t want anyone to walk out and… and see us,” he tells me and I nod.

I start to walk around the car but he follows, opening the door for me. He gives me a hand so I can climb into his truck and then he runs back around the front of the car, hopping in on his side.

“I know you obviously have a license but you’re not a horrible driver, are you? I feel like you’re out of practice,” I joke as I buckle my seatbelt.

“I drove you home a few weeks ago,” he argues as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the lot.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention to your driving,” I admit. He passes me his phone and I look at it.

“You can play whatever you want,” he tells me.

“I’m surprised your truck has Bluetooth. What year is this thing?” I ask him.

“It’s from the 80’s,” He admits. I smile at the thought. This is the cutest freaking truck. “And I had a new stereo put in… with bluetooth,” he tells me. “Because I figured that you—”

“Oh my god, Parker,” I stop him. “If you’re about to tell me that you got a new stereo system put in your new car that you bought to take me on a date because you know I love music and wanted me to feel comfortable on our date I need you to stop.”

He shuts up right away. He shrugs and zips his lips.

“Okay, I won't say that then,” he tells me and my jaw drops slightly.

“Parker…” I mumble.

“Brianne,” he looks at me.

“This is too much,” I mumble.

“I have one date to make you like me. I’m not wasting it. So, yes. I got a stereo put in so you could listen to music. I figured it was important considering we’re going to be spending time in the truck for a good portion of the night,” he explains. “It’s not too much. Stereos are used all the time,” he tells me.

“You don’t like music,” I tell him.

“I never said that. I said I don’t usually listen to it because I prefer silence but I could learn to. I’ve been listening to more music than I used to in the past few weeks,” he mumbles, looking over at me for a split second before he turns to the road again, keeping his hands to himself. Gentleman. He’s a quiet, sincere fucking gentleman. I’m going to melt into a puddle…

“So where are we going?” I ask him. He smirks and shrugs.

“Here and there,” he mumbles and I scoff.

“Parker—” He cuts me off.

“Tell me why you like this song,” he mumbles.

I just put a playlist I listen to on shuffle—a more mellow playlist without too much country on it. I chose it subconsciously even though I know that Parker wouldn’t have cared either way.

“It’s called Commotion by Young the Giant. I don’t know. I really like all of their music, but this song is just smooth. It’s like… Kind of like how I imagine falling in love would feel like,” I tell him, my eyes catching on the sky and road in front of us.

“I like this song… Actually. It’s simple and it’s calming,” he tells me.

I nod. It’s a really good song, but they’re a good band.

“Do you listen to this band a lot?” he asks and I shake my head.

“No. I like them, but they aren’t my favorite,” I tell him.

“Okay, play a favorite… Please,” he adds.

I look at him and he glances at me. I don’t share the music that I normally love mostly because people don’t enjoy it. They don’t get it, they don’t understand it, which is fine because music is subjective, but it does feel like I’m sharing a part of myself that only I really understand.

“What? Are you scared?” he asks, not in a rude way. Not in a way like he’s making fun of me. He’s actually curious.

“Yes,” I admit.

“I remember you said Rascal Flatts, right? You said that you really like them,” he talks to me and my heart bottoms out. I nod. I mentioned it in passing, not thinking he would be listening.

“They are one of my favorites,” I tell him.

“Well, then play one I like. Take Me There...” he tells me and I just stare at him.

He doesn’t listen to music, especially not country music. I know he doesn’t. He said he didn’t so tell me how he knows this song. Tell me how he’s aware of a song off of my favorite album by them?

“How do you…” I start and shake my head, butterflies flying around my stomach.

“I listened… You said you liked them and I wanted to understand it. I like that song. It reminds me of you,” he tells me, and once again, I feel my heart lurch and stutter.

I press the song and listen to it quietly with him, wondering who the person next to me is. He’s quiet and grumpy and very bossy. That’s what people assume about him. That’s what I assumed about him because it’s what he showed me. He’s not the kind of person who listens to music and says songs remind him of me. Well, he wasn’t that kind of person… Now… Now he is, I guess. Or maybe he always was.

“When did you become such a romantic?” I ask him.

“I don’t know… I’ve never really had this chance with anyone so I figured I wouldn’t waste it,” he admits, keeping his eyes on the road. His words sink in and don’t help with the nerves I’m already feeling.

We drive into the city and he keeps asking me about every song I play, his eyes drifting to me every now and then, just glancing. He still hasn’t touched me once. I wonder if he’s going to at all. I said slow and this is slow, but it feels really good. This is different from any date I’ve ever been on. Most of them weren’t romantic and ended as any would. A Netflix and chill style, I guess. I’m not great at traditional dating. Considering how this started with Parker and I, I think that’s proof. He parks his truck in a parking deck and he comes to help me from the car again. He takes a jacket from the car and throws it on before motioning me to go in front of him.

“What are we—”

“No asking. I won't tell you,” he smirks to himself, his smile absolutely perfect.

I’ve never dated anyone with facial hair, mostly because I dated guys in high school and they couldn’t grow any. Parker is only two years older than me, but he looks… He looks grown up.

We walk down the stairs of the parking deck and once we’re on the street, he motions toward the right and I walk next to him on the street. Seattle bustles around us, a city I adore more than words. I look down at his hand hanging beside him. I decide that I can make the first move. That’s alright. So I do. I take his hand and intertwine it with mine, electricity shocking every inch of my body and my mind. I push away the thought that I’m more reactive and in tune with my body when it comes to Parker, mostly because I can’t be thinking like that when it’s only our first date.

He clasps his hand to mine. I look at him and see him glance down between us, his eyes looking at our joined hands. He looks forward and I pretend to not notice the slow smile that tints his lips. It’s so subtle that it almost doesn’t appear, but even if I couldn’t see it on his lips, I can see it in his eyes. His hazel eyes are more green than brown right now. I look forward, a simple smile on my lips too as I look at my feet, walking with him. We turn off the street and there’s a pop of life bursting off the block. They sectioned off the entire road, a farmers market living here for the time being. I smile, and look at him.

“They’re doing a ‘paint the street’ down there. I thought it would be fun to… to paint and to walk around as well,” he tells me and I squeeze his hand out of excitement.

To my surprise, he squeezes back and I pull him off the sidewalk and into the street. He follows and we make our way through pop up tents and small business shops set up on the street. I am completely taken away by all of it. Trying on hats at the small shops and sifting through artwork crafted and created just for this. Parker shows me art. He smiles with his eyes not just his lips and I feel my heart stutter when he looks at me with that warmth in his glance. I feel my entire body react when he reaches for me, taking my hand, walking us from booth to booth, his thumb grazing over my knuckles. A tiny tiny detail, but one that doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated. I shiver and he takes off his jacket.

“This is so cliche,” I mumble, staring at him and he shakes his head.

“Take the jacket, and stop complaining Brianne,” he laughs.

“Why do you call me Brianne?” I ask.

“It’s your name,” he laughs through his words as I slide his jacket on my body.

It’s a heavy Carhartt jacket but it’s so warm considering the thing swallows me whole. I bunch up the sleeves so I can see my hands again, and we both reach for each other. My hand finds his. I bring my other hand over and hold onto his arm and lean into him subconsciously as we walk.

“I mean why do you call me by my full name and not a nickname?” I ask him.

“I like your name. I think it fits you… and…” he hesitates.

“What? Say it,” I tell him, nudging him.

“You seem to have a really big attachment to your parents. You respect them and I feel like they named you that for a reason so I should… I should respect your name and call you by that. It’s beautiful and it was the one gift your parents gave you that you can keep forever. If you want, of course,” he explains.

I look up at him and a genuine smile filled with sentiment hits my lips.

“My mom is the only person that ever called me by my full name. Everyone else has a nickname for me unless they’re mad at me, then it’s ‘Brianne Emily Archer! You’re in trouble,’” I joke and he laughs. “You’re very respectful.”

“Did you expect something different?” he asks.

“I didn’t expect anything. You’re kind of mysterious. Honestly, you’re quiet and lonely. You’re an enigma. You’re on the top football team in the country. You go to one of the best schools. You’re best friends with the popular kids on the most favored sports team we have… Yet, you’re introverted. So no, I expected nothing. But I’m… I’m happily surprised,” I tell him.

“I had a few choices growing up. Do what I wanted and get punished, rebel and I would end up with consequences that were never worth it… Or respect others and get an easier draw in life. I was… I was really freaking lucky getting out of the foster system the way that I did. I know that and I know I have a lot of privilege in that sense. Who I am, what I look like, all of it comes into play when thinking about how I got where I am currently. But… But I didn’t have a choice in the respect part and once I started truly sinking into that, the quiet respectful persona, it was easy. I didn’t really have to pretend because it just… It fit me. It felt better,” he admits. I nod.

“You’re respecting people you’ve never met and can never meet because they aren’t alive. I think you’ve taken it to the next level, P…” I tell him and then hesitate. “Parker.” I use his full name.

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells me and I nod.

“I don’t but I will.”

“The respect aspect isn’t the same with my parents,” he mumbles.

“But I think you deserve that same respect,” I tell him and he actually looks at me now, his eyes roving my face.

He looks at every single inch of my face. He brings his other hand up, brushing his thumb over my cheek, then my bottom lip. I kiss his thumb and he smiles. Parker has given me glances and stares that I’ve never, not once, seen portrayed on his normally stoic face. He keeps his emotions, his smiles, and his feelings to a severe minimum. I don’t take that fact lightly, that I’ve pulled something out of him. He only looks at me for another second before turning back to the street, guiding me to the paint section he had mentioned. There’s actual artists painting portraits and masterpieces on the street in different sections. Then there are kids with parents. Couples. Every walk of life, painting on the streets. I clasp my hands together, getting excited.

We paint next to each other and I get so focused on the artwork that I don’t talk much. I almost forget Parker is there for a few minutes as I sit on the cement and paint. I never knew this existed, this little farmers market, but I’m having a lot of fun. The food is good. The weather isn’t that bad besides the small wind chill breezing through the air. Parker is… He’s perfect which makes my stomach heat and sink. I had… I had hoped he wasn’t going to be perfect at all. I actually hoped for the opposite but I was rudely awakened from that dream and brought a different kind of dream. The kind of dream where you can hear Taylor Swift songs playing in your head when you look at the guy you’re with. That’s never happened before, not with my luck.

“A bouquet.” He looks over at my painting.

“My favorite flowers. Peonies,” I tell him, looking at what I created on the street.

It’s been a few hours since we got here and we had gotten here later in the day so the small shops are starting to shut down as I finish my drawing, some still alive. The sun has sunk slightly lower and though we ate a bit throughout our walk, I’m actually hungry now.

“Ready?” he asks me.

He stands and gives me his hands, helping me from the ground. I turn back and look at our artwork. His is pretty. It’s a sunset. He did decently well. I take a picture of the artwork and he smirks.

“Yours looks good,” he tells me.

“So does yours. I had no idea I was on a date with Picasso,” I tell him.

“Aren’t Picasso’s paintings kinda ugly?” he asks and I turn to look at him.

“It’s a saying… So why would his paintings be ugly?” I ask.

“I had to take an art class once and from what I remember, the people in his paintings weren’t the best looking,” he tells me.

“Well, your painting was pretty. Is that what you need from me? To boost your ego?” I ask.

“You can keep going if you want, I’m enjoying it,” he smirks to himself and I roll my eyes.

We walk back through all the tents and shops we passed along the way, but he stops at a flower stand and walks up, picking up an already arranged set of pink, red and white peonies. He hands his card over and I just stare at him.

“You already got me flowers,” I tell him when he comes back, handing me the beautiful bouquet.

“I got you flowers, not your favorite flowers. There’s a difference,” he mumbles, his hands in his pockets as he walks beside me.

“But—”

“No but. If I want to get you something, I’m going to do it, even if you say no. Stop arguing.” He instantly gets that bossy protective voice and I smirk to myself at the defensiveness.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“You’re…” he shakes his head and I furrow my brows.

“What?” I ask and turn to him. Then, I bounce around him. “What? Say it!” I urge.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs.

I don’t push because I notice the shy, quiet nature returning to his features. He’s retreating. Maybe he’ll say it later. He brings me back to the car, two bouquets and lots of memories sitting between us now.

* * *

Parker drove us to get fast food and slushies to eat in his car and then he pulled up to Alki Beach, a beach I’ve frequented but never sat and watched the sunset at. It’s definitely too cold to get out of the car, but sitting in his truck while the sun disappears… Finishing our food and sinking into one of the easiest conversations I’ve ever had. Parker Thompson listened to me when I asked for casual, but still took it the extra mile and is giving me an absolutely perfect date right now.

“First kiss…” He nods his head toward me, pushing for an answer.

I feel like a middle schooler playing 20 questions right now, but I honestly don't mind. I dig through the ice in the bottom of my slushie and think about my answer.

“My first kiss was with my first boyfriend named Ryland. He actually goes to SPU. It was very awkward,” I admit and Parker smirks, digging through his slushie.

We’ve both gotten comfortable in his old Chevy. My legs are crossed and my back is leaned against the door so my body is facing him. He’s angled to me, his legs spread, his gaze flickering between me, the sunset, and his drink.

“Tell me,” he nods his head and I sigh.

“Okay, we were freshmen in high school. I was a cheerleader and he was actually a basketball player. Back then, the football cheerleaders did basketball cheer too. So, we knew each other through sports. It was after a game and we weren’t even dating. He was very sweaty and I was not expecting it. He kissed me so hard that I actually hit my head on the wall behind me. Then, he apologized because he was an idiot and didn’t mean to do it. Then, he kissed me for real and it wasn’t as bad… but I wasn’t dating him and at the time, when you’re young and stupid… Well, I thought that made me some sort of slut or something.”

A soft laugh bubbles in Parker’s chest at my words.

“Then we started dating a week later. I subconsciously think it was because we kissed, but either way, he was my first kiss, first boyfriend, and also he took my virginity,” I tell Parker and he raises his eyebrows.

“You let him take your virginity?” he asks and I shrug, mixing up my slushie.

“Virginity is a social construct. It can mean whatever you want it to mean and for me, it wasn’t… It didn’t need to be special. For some people, it does. Also losing your virginity is always awkward and weird,” I laugh and shrug. “You’re awfully quiet. What about you? Was your first time awkward?” I ask him and he smirks.

“I was at a party I was definitely too young to be at. I was also with a girl who had no business being around me. She was a freshman and I was an eighth grader.”

I gasp at his words, faking shock.

“Parker, you dog,” I joke and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, it was awkward. If you must know, I lasted about two minutes, and she pretended she wasn’t mortified.” He shakes his head and I cover my face.

“Okay, that wins,” I laugh and he does too.

“You said you had multiple exes that go to SPU. Is there… Is there history?” he asks and I press my lips together.

“Ashton Gardner. He’s my longest relationship to date. There’s not much history left there to worry about but he is… I mean, he was important to me,” I tell Parker.

“Did you love him?” he asks me and I shake my head right away.

“At the time when you’re there and you’re in it, I think it’s easy to try and convince yourself you are but I wasn’t. I’ve never been in love,” I admit. Parker raises his eyes.

“Neither have I,” he admits.

“And do you have any crazy exes I should be worried about?” I ask, feeling extremely relaxed in the passenger seat of his car.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend. I… I almost did. Her name was Sarah and she never wanted to commit. She also hated any gesture. She was… She was hard to be around and when I look back at it, I wonder what I was even doing. My entire freshman year, she was my almost kind of girlfriend. She broke it off when I told her about everything with my family or lack of moreso,” he tells me.

“What a bitch…” I mumble.

“You could say it louder, actually,” he smirks and I do too.

“But she’s not in your life anymore?” I ask and he shakes his head no.

“No. She left SPU after our freshman year. I don’t know where she is now. She was… We weren’t dating but I was still trying to be as all in as I could be,” he explains.

I nod and look at him, a smile forcing its way onto my lips.

“Thank you… For trusting me with everything you’ve shared,” I smile and he shakes his head.

“I can’t really help myself from talking around you… It’s weird,” he admits and I look at him, a blush coating his face. He looks at me with a quizzical expression that melts into warmth.

“You are so pretty, Brianne,” he mumbles, just above a whisper and my cheeks burn hotter. “That’s what I was going to say back at the farmers market but it seemed cheesy. It felt like you might think I was trying too hard so I didn’t say it but I just… I have to say it,” he finishes and I laugh to myself, covering my face.

“You are cheesy and I really like it,” I tell him.

“If you tell anyone I’m being cheesy, they won't believe you,” he jokes.

“Oh, I know I can count on that,” I laugh.

That’s something I’ve noticed. Laughter is second nature with him. It’s easy to let it bubble out of my chest in the midst of his words and our conversation. I’ve laughed more today than I have on every other date I’ve ever been on combined.

“How long have you been in therapy?” Parker asks and I smirk.

“Since my parents passed away. So, I was 10 years old when I went. At first, it was Bellamy and I in there together for sibling therapy. Then, when I was old enough I went alone, and Bellamy never needed to continue. I mean, I say that but everyone needs to be in therapy if I’m honest. Even the most sensible people can use it, even the people who seem like they have everything all together could benefit from it, but Bellamy stopped going and he seems to be doing okay. It’s odd too because Bellamy was older when they passed away so it seems like he—”

I stop talking when I look at Parker and he’s giving me a look of confusion… I think that’s what he’s looking at me like.

“Sorry,” I mumble to myself.

“Stop apologizing for talking. I enjoy listening to you talk, Brianne,” he smirks and I feel a smile spread on my face.

“I talk a lot about me. I don’t want to talk over any stories you have about you,” I tell him, speaking truthfully. If I can learn something… anything about Parker it feels like a small gift that has a giant meaning. Most people know the basics, but even now with the little bits I know, I’m above average on Parker knowledge.”

“I don’t have many stories… Not many that compare to whatever you could say. Not in a sad way but in an honest way. I didn’t grow up like you,” he admits and I nod.

“Why did you change… You said you were kind of a punk as a kid so what did it for you? Was there something specific?” I ask, knowing it’s a blunt question but wanting to understand him. He chuckles softly, the wheels in his head turning.

“Uhm… Honestly, I was… I was sad. It was just a deep unhappy feeling and I see it that way now. Back then, I didn’t fully grasp that and I realized what I was doing was most likely the cause. I didn’t have many options. So, I had to either take the opportunity given to me or continue on the path I was on. I didn’t know what I wanted with my life because I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t know I could want things for myself at that point,” he admits and I can feel my heart swell and tighten at his words.

A kid that can’t want things because he didn’t know he even could.

“And do you know that now… That you can want things and that it’s safe to do that?” I ask him softly.

He nods a few times, sheepishly at first. He reaches over the console and takes my hand and my entire chest shatters and breaks apart.

“I think I do. Yeah…” he admits and I can hardly breathe with the tension in my chest and the car.

This is so dangerous for me because I don’t want this date to end and… and I had come into it hoping it would be horrible. Instead, I’ve lost track of time. The clock has ticked away the past few hours and it’s felt like nothing like no time at all. I have two bouquets of flowers. I keep laughing and my cheeks have basically been stained red from how much he’s made me blush tonight. My phone vibrates and there’s a text from my brother, just checking in. I tell him I will be home decently late tonight, knowing that I don’t want the date to end, and if it does, I’ll be going straight to Dak’s to spill all of it. I tuck my phone into my messenger bag on the floor.

“Bellamy?” he asks and I nod.

“Yes, just checking in,” I tell him.

“Growing up with a brother, did he ever… I mean did you two ever fight?” he asks and I shake my head.

“I mean, yes, we fought every now and again, but honestly, Bellamy is the best brother. He’s usually pretty level-headed. I’m the dramatic one most of the time or the one that’s having a freakout or snapping at him. If I ever did, he would always just calm me down and settle me,” I admit. “And without siblings? How did that feel?” I ask.

“I’m glad I didn’t have siblings because we probably wouldn’t have been able to stay together. I do wish I had someone like what you’re explaining. I’m sure a sibling would make life a hell of a lot easier,” he explains.

“What about your roommates?” I ask.

“What about them?” he asks back.

“Do they not feel like your brothers this many years in? You spend almost every day with them… You’re bound to be somewhat close with them by this point,” I explain.

“I don’t know. I mean life would be…” he pauses for a second and then furrows his brows. “I don’t really know what my life would look like without them. They don’t know that it would be really hard for me to adjust, especially without Xander. He pulls me out of my shit a lot. When I get upset, weird, or moody, he calls me out, helps me up, and dusts me off. So, I guess you’re right in a way. They are kind of like the brothers I never had.”

“Aw, three hockey players meet a football player and they make a family. How cute,” I joke.

“Never tell Xander I said that or he’ll be more insufferable than he already is,” he jokes and I hold my pinky out.

“Promise,” I tell him. He looks forward and I shrug. “What, you’ve never made a pinky promise?” I ask.

“No. I’ve never made a promise in my life at all,” he tells me and I raise my eyebrows.

“Wow,” I admit.

“Do you have a habit of making promises?” he asks me and I shrug.

“If I do, I always keep them,” I tell him, but I lower my finger, not making him promise this. He’ll promise something if it’s actually important.

Time is spent, even longer than expected, continuing our conversation. We talk about nothing and everything. I tell him about how I got into dancing and all of my competitions for cheer as well as dance as a kid. He asks if I have time for friends or sleep and I laugh. I laugh a lot. He wants to know more and more about me and I keep telling him, letting him know whatever he wants and surprisingly, if I ask him anything, he tells me. Parker spent his younger years playing football, going home, doing his schoolwork, and going to bed. We had similar childhoods but very very different ones at the same exact time.

I look at the clock on his dashboard and it’s 11 at night. He eyes it and looks back at me. I sigh.

“I think this means we should—”

“I don’t want it to end yet…” he cuts me off and I stare at him.

“Then, what?” I ask and he runs his hand through his hair, his eyes diverting from mine.

“Come home with me…” he suggests and I open my mouth to protest. “I won't pull anything. I just… I want to be around you. I can bring you home later, you just have to say the word. P-promise,” he mumbles the last word and I raise my eyebrows.

“Promise?” I ask and he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Don’t make this—”

I lean forward, my face close to his shoulder as he turns forward in the driver's seat.

“Am I stealing your promise virginity, Parker Thompson?” I ask him and he sighs deeply but there’s a smirk on his lips.

“Will you? Come back with me?” he asks and I debate it. Will I? I guess I shouldn’t be asking myself that question. The question I should be asking is, should I? Should I go back to his house when I told myself he had one night…

“What are you worried about, Brianne?” He asks me and I sigh.

“Everything,” I admit.

“Do what you want to do. Whatever it is you’re wanting the most, do that,” he urges.

“Then yes… I’ll come back with you,” I tell him and glance for a second to watch his smirk settle on his perfect lips.

It’s dark outside. We can’t see anything that’s not illuminated by the street lights but I don’t care. I’m doing what makes me feel good and I feel really good about spending more time with Parker.